They Don't Even Know Your Name
by Overdressedtokill
Summary: Originally posted on my tumblr. Slight AU ("Flash and Substance" meets post Invasion Earth-16). In which Wally West grows up, tries to move on, and gets a museum, all in less than 24 hours. And Bart is no help whatsoever.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: This is my first fic that will venture into the AU whereas Earth-16 and the DCAU (at least as far as JLU is concerned) are one in the same. As in, all of this takes place in the Justice League episode "Flash and Substance", but after the events of "Invasion". So with that in mind, enjoy!

* * *

Wally West is getting a museum. After everything, after he saved the world and almost died and lost the love of his life and his mentor in one fell swoop, after he joined the league and refused to speak to Dick ever again, after everything, all the mess and the blood and sweat and tears-it's come to this. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't completely excited. He'd also be lying if he said he didn't want to cry when he really thinks about it.

The worst part of this is that he really feels like this is Barry's honor, because it's called "The Flash Museum," and Wally doesn't really feel like this is actually for him at all. Not that he hasn't stepped up-or so, that's what Bart keeps telling him, over and over, as if he's afraid Wally's going to pull off his cowl, mid acceptance speech, and scream, "Actually, you've got the wrong guy!" Or maybe Wally's projecting. He's probably projecting. But Bart's never been very good at minding his own business.

"I mean, how can you not think this is so totally crash?" Bart asks, zipping around him in circles, as Wally tries, once more, to finish his speech. The Kid Flash uniform suits him, actually, and Wally thinks that maybe it's a sign that Bart is the one meant for this, not him-but he's not supposed to say things like that today.

"And," Bart exclaims, suddenly stopping, his heels burrowing into the floor, "Batman's coming to support you! How can you not be totally psyched about that?" He grins in the honest, excited way that Wally used to.

"I didn't say I'm not excited," Wally deadpans, taking a moment to scribble over some line about love and loss. Bart doesn't seem convinced.

"They'd be proud of you, Wally," he says. Wally's head shoots up.

"Please don't mention that to me," Wally snaps, through gritted teeth. "Not today." His fingers find the bridge of his nose. Like he hasn't spent all of last night (and the night before that and so on, since this museum was announced), thinking about the people who are not going to be there. And he doesn't have the heart to tell Bart he'd give up Batman a thousand times just for a wayward glimpse of gray eyes and blonde hair. Or to hear Barry's laugh. Bart's started fidgeting again, as he always does when he's feeling uncomfortable (which is often). Wally knows that at least Batman will have the good sense not to bring up Dick. Though Wally's got the feeling if the big bat is going to be there, his ex-best friend won't be too far behind. Wally's already planning to do what he always does; which is pretend Dick's not there. Because really, it's so much easier to play dumb than to face the reason why his girlfriend is dead.

He can actually say that about a lot of things.

Like the fact that everyone who knows the Flash things that he's this happy go lucky guy, and they're partially right. He was. He should be, but he's kind of got a lot of things on his mind right now. And it's not like he won't smile when he cuts the reason, or like he won't be a total goof like he always pretends to be. Because that's what Artemis would want him to be, he thinks. She was never the type that liked to live in the past. So Wally pretends that if he acts happy enough, that maybe one day, he actually will be happy again. Just not anytime soon.

"Hey Wally," Bart adds, noting that Wally's hands have begun to just write, "I don't deserve this," over and over on his mess of a speech, "not to be 'that guy', but we're gonna be late." Wally crosses out everything on the page with a big, angry "X".

"The Flash is always late," he says, just like he was told so many years before. "It's a running joke, the fastest man alive can't get anywhere on time." There's no humor in his tone.

"Yeah um, I know that but-don't you think this is a little different?" Bart's already got those old red googles on.

"It never really is," Wally sighs. He pulls his cowl on slowly. To play the part. A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth and he's glad nobody can see his eyes-they'd give away just how unhappy he was in an instant. Besides, the ladies always like it when the Flash shoots a smile their way (even if he can practically feel Artemis roll her eyes, despite the fact that she's been dead for years). "Let's get this over with."


	2. Chapter 2

The run into Central City is almost uneventful-actually, it's entirely uneventful, save for Bart getting hungry about 50 blocks in, forcing the two to make a snack stop at a hot dog stand.

"No charge," the vendor had said, beaming, "you two have earned it. Congrats, guys." Bart had hugged him. Wally gave his famous fake Flash smile and a curt nod before pulling Bart away.

"You could actually try to enjoy yourself, Wally," Bart murmurs as they pass a bus with the Flash's face plastered over it (The Central City Flash Museum, it reads. Coming soon!) Wally gives him a sidelong glance.

"I don't think you know how hard I'm actually trying." Bart doesn't reply. "And what did I say about using names in public?" Wally's got no reason to snap at Bart, really, and he does feel something like guilt when Bart's half-smile deflates, but Wally also selfishly hopes that maybe he'll stay quiet until they get to this museum opening. And then maybe, he can bother Batman, or something.

"Listen Wa-Flash, I'm not trying to bother you or ruin your day or anything I just think that-"

"Would you be quiet for a second?" Wally retorts, and Bart's about to snap back at him, because massively depressed or not he's really got no right to use his sidekick as his punching bag. Bart's got a retort and everything, all planned out, but he realizes that Wally's no longer running next to him. Bart skids to a stop in a sort of Scooby-Doo fashion, arms flailing around him and legs turning in circles. He's got to backtrack about three or four blocks, where a frustrated Wally mouths "seriously?" as Bart makes his way back around the corner. Bart tries a sheepish smile, his retort already lost under his burning cheeks. Wally rolls his eyes, still unspeaking.

"Hey is there a reason for the silent treatment? Other than you being totally pissed at me?"

"Just listen," Wally finally hisses, gesturing to an old disco across the street. Bart thinks a comment like "maybe we should go dancing post acceptance speech," is appropriate, but something like a "mommy" coming from across the street freezes his blood.

"We should go in," Bart clamors, already moving forward. Wally's hand catches his shoulder.

"Something's not right." His mouth is drawn tight.

"She needs our help," Bart brushes Wally's hand off his shoulder. It's his turn to cross his arms. "Wally, seriously, she needs our help. So can you please stop being so down for just a minute? I promise once we rescue her you can go back to moping." Wally nods.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry. This just seems off, is all." Bart shakes his head.

"You're just in a mood." He grabs Wally's arm, half dragging him across the street.

It's kind of weird, that a little girl's managed to wander into an abandoned arcade, even weirder still is that Bart doesn't make a comment about the machines that line the walls being "totally retro," but the crying's loud enough that it's captured almost all of Wally's attention. It's the mindset he always gets around crying children-and he's not quite sure yet if it works in his favor.

"Come on, little girl, it's okay, I'll get you out of here." he calls out in the musty darkness, and there's real concern there; it's always there, and it's always a little too sincere. Wally's been playing this hero gig close to his chest since-well, since everything went to shit. He rounds a counter, crouched slightly. It's a way he copes with children; something he learned a long time ago when he listened to a pretty girl sing mismatched nursery rhymes. "It's okay, sweetie, it's oka-" Bart can only see the top of his head.

"Everything okay there, Flash?" he asks, his eyes suddenly darting for the door.

"Kid-" Wally answers, and Bart can feel the tension in his voice, "she's a hologram." Wally lets out another swear, louder this time-now that there's no actual child involved.

It's at that exact moment that the doors seal shut, and the disco ball starts. The music is surprisingly upbeat for the current situation.

"This was a trap," Bart decides to point out.

"Yep," Wally sighs. He stands quickly, like he's embarrassed. Like he's made a rookie mistake. It's a pretty basic trap, and he doesn't seem to worried, but it's a wrench in an already tense day. "I did not need this," Wally snaps at no one in particular, circling the room with his arms out-he always looks kind of silly in a fighting stance, but Bart's not going to be the one to tell him that.

"Mirror Master," Wally snarls (a bit too aggressively), making Bart spin around in his second mishap of the day. Mirror Master had been right behind him, of course. That's just the kind of luck everyone seems to be having today.

"Flash," he retorts, "you're quick as ever."

"Yeah well," Wally calls back (and his brow furrows, he's looking for a comeback, where is his comeback? God, he's not usually this slow but this is probably the worst day he's had in recent history and wait-he's got it!) "you're not all there!" Bart knows it's inappropriate to slap his hand to his forehead. He does it anyway.

"Seriously?" Bart whispers as he joins Wally's side, to which Wally replies,

"Shut it, kid," in a way that is painfully familiar, for both of them. Mirror Master, if anything, seems completely ignorant in any change in the Flash's temperament. Which is one good thing, though perhaps not enough.

"Oh, nice try," he sneers, "if you had another minute, you'd probably think of a decent comeback." Which is, of course, the cue for the lasers to start. Of course.


End file.
